Perspective
by whitecoatswontgetme
Summary: An unlikely meeting spurs Harry into changing perspective.
1. Chapter 1

It was the day before my birthday that I saw him and rather unexpectedly at that

It was the day before my birthday that I saw him and rather unexpectedly at that. I must admit, I was furious. He had inadvertently foiled my only actual plan in existence, my only free thinking action, my only escape attempt, and he had found me, or I had found him.

He was staring at himself in a window with a look of concentration but behind it even I could see distaste. The unfortunate thing about this predicament was that I was stood behind him, and sharing his spotlight. I'd barely processed the thought that he was there when his wand was at my neck and he was spitting fire at me. Apparently he hadn't wanted to be found either. I imagine my eyes were dazed, wide and stupid-looking. I remember the absurdity of the situation hit me suddenly and without understanding why I was laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Of all things to happen this was just the best.

I run with my tail between my legs away from Dumbledore to find my own fortune and purpose in life, and I run straight into the brick wall that is Lord Voldemort, albeit a slightly trendier one, younger looking with blue eyes, auburn hair and a slightly less sinister smile, but my scar is my detector, and not even Lord and Mighty Voldemort can deceive it.

The wand was pressed in harder and then dropped and I had to open my eyes for I had closed them in my hysteria. He has always thought me a fool. I am always living up to his expectations.

I used to imagine this moment, my final confrontation with He Who Must Die and then with my disillusion of the Order I imagined my defection, my forbidden allegiance with him and yet in that moment I couldn't remember them. I had only one thought; he will kill me now that I am no longer a threat.

I suppose it was incredibly naive to venture out of Privet Drive, my own personal prison, before my seventeenth birthday, and that was why I had thought it was brilliant. Surely no one would expect it of me. The Boy Who Lived misbehaves, surely not.

So I eventually stood up straight and curbed my no doubt irritating laughter and looked the fearsome dark lord in the eye and he glared back at me, crimson delicately playing across the blue of his eyes and suddenly he smirked and humour flashed where anger had just been and now it was me that was standing in bewilderment.

"He's finally gone and done it! The utter fool! So, who _are_ you?"

My mouth dropped.

"Who do you _think_ I am? I thought you claimed to be 'brilliant'."

He scowled and then it deepened.

"There is no way you are Potter".

"And why not?" I demanded.

"As if Potter would leave his summer safety. The old coot will have him holed up somewhere, teaching him magic tricks and getting him to run in circles to build stamina, or something like that."

"My summer safety is the most dangerous place in the world for me you git! And as if they'd ever show me anything that's useful. They can all go rot, and so can you! I'm finished with you all. It's my turn, and I want to live! And I will get what _I_ want this time".

He laughed, thinking me a liar, again. I stared back defiantly and he shrugged.

"If you say so, but I know what will prove it" He smirked again and it infuriated me.

He raised a tanned arm and let his hand come closer. I took a step back but he only smiled nastily at me. A finger came forward, a mere millimetre from my scar.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt. I know you're lying" and it made contact and I screamed in agony and he fell backwards himself, with laboured breathing and disbelief in his eyes.

"No bloody way!" He swore over and over again under his breath. He kept looking at me, shaking his head, smiling, smirking and then shaking it even more fiercely.

"Why?" he mustered.

"What right do you have to know anything about me?"

"You're his weapon; you've been raised to kill me! Why shouldn't I know why you're roaming around like an idiot?"

I thought the words over and I've already said I no longer cared. Why shouldn't I tell him?

"I hate him, even more than I hate you, even more than I hate everyone. Is that not enough?"

He looked at me in a new way; it pierced deep into my soul, remembrance, sorrow and perhaps even regret. But then it was all gone and he was blank to my eyes and I huffed indignantly, pivoted on my heel and strode purposefully into another alley.

I knew he was following me, sometimes at a sedate pace, sometimes frantically, but I knew he was there, just out of sight. I could feel it in my every fibre. I ducked into a book store to wait it out. I should have known he'd find me. He sat down next to me and I was too annoyed to respond. He coughed slightly, and tried to speak.

"I, I know you hate me; you told me you hate me but if you don't want to kill me, hate me, fight me, perhaps… I mean, could we not just begin again?"

"Forget you murdered them all, you mean?"

He admirably ignored the comment and sighed heavily.

"Will you not think about it? I grow tired, of everything. I… have nothing to live for, and I am going to live forever. Will you not consider …?"

"I am no one's slave. I _will_ be free".

"Have I ever tried to possess…ok rephrase that… control… ok, I might have tried to _influence_ you, but never to weaken you, only to strengthen you!"

"Why would you wish to strengthen your enemy?"

"I have only ever seen Dumbledore as an enemy. You were his pawn".

I snarled at that and I felt my magic tearing through me, but my anger was not directed at _him, _but at the old Headmaster.

His face was full of sadness and I could have said yes right then, but I refused to be a pushover. If he wanted me he'd have to fight for me.


	2. Chapter 2

I forgot to put a disclaimer; I own nothing, if only I did…

I forgot to put a disclaimer; I own nothing, if only I did…

And I know this is atrociously short! It's just trying to set a sort of base for the story.

My coffee was cold. It was just another thing on my list of irksome things. He was late; that was what really had me riled up. I knew he'd swan in just as I was readying to leave and he'd charm me back to the table with promises of information, titbits of gossip from Hogwart's halls, thinking I didn't even know. I wasn't the only fool that lived in the shadows. Severus Snape simply didn't know when to stop walking them, however, and he should be more careful lest he slip.

You're on the Devil's Highway, the road I pave before you, just let me listen to you and then guide you through my own tragedy.

I was in thrall. And I knew it. But who cares when power is handed to you after something so simple as reading a book. Whatever harm ever came from reading a book? Well, plenty can, has and will again. It's an illusion, a false reality where life is simple and power is great. But power is all-consuming. Too great a tool for us mere mortal men. I needed it. I hated that it taunted me beyond my reach. Too much for any mere mortal man. Is it any wonder that I got distracted from my cause; is it hard to see why I wandered so far from my once chosen path? Is this what I wanted to be? This thing I see in the mirror, this thing that has become me, or I have become it. Is this really what I yearned for? But it's not enough. You need more. I don't want more but my magic craves its drug of choice. I need a new focus, a real sense of purpose because war is a petty thing when you're indestructible; hatred is a waste of time when you'll just outlive them. There's no desperation, no urgency, no sense of time. No purpose. I hate there not being a purpose. I hate not having time. Why is he late? He is always late. I know it; he knows it. I bet old beardy weirdy knows it too… but he matters little. He's out of sight and out of mind. But where is my little protégé? And why won't Harry come to me? Why won't Harry come and save me?


End file.
